Two Rivers (11 page)

Tekeni’s head reeled, and he welcomed the wind as it tore at
them, strengthening with the sun rushing toward its resting place.

“You are like this, right?” he said quietly, watching the
deepening shadows. “You are not blending. But…” he bit his lower lip, compelled
to say it, but afraid all the same. “You are not happy. You are standing out,
and you are following your truth, but… Is it worth it?”

The amused smile was back, stretching the man’s lips, filling
the large eyes with a spark of appreciation. “Oh, this is a difficult question
to answer. But yes, it has its price, not to be just an average person.” A
shrug. “Is it worth it? Maybe yes, maybe not. Depends on what you want out of
life. You are still very young, and you have time to think, to sort yourself
out. I don’t think you will be like me, but who knows.” Another shrug, a
widening grin. “I’m a mess, boy. Much worse than you are. You had a happy life
and happy family back with your people. I can tell. Your troubles began with
your captivity. But mine? Oh, mine began before I was born.”

“How so?” Wide-eyed, Tekeni peered at the man beside him,
taking in the proud profile, the strong cheekbones, the high brow, the long,
eagle-like nose. Good hunter, good warrior, a prominent man everyone talked
about, and yet a strange person that not many liked or trusted.

“Oh, it’s difficult to tell. There was a prophecy, a dream of a
girl who conceived without having a man in her life. The Turtle Clan accepted
it, but she kept insisting, her dreams getting more powerful, until people
started to believe her. The child was supposed to belong to the Great Spirits,
conceived miraculously. They say the Grandmother of the Clan tried to get rid
of the baby when it was born. She was not successful. She came back, awed,
refusing to tell anyone about what happened.” The mirthless grin was back. “Try
to grow up surrounded by such an air of mystery and stay sane. With everyone
looking at you, awed and suspicious, expecting you to do what? To perform a
miracle? Not the childhood I would wish on anyone. And it doesn’t get any
better.” The man’s eyes left the darkening bank, traveling downwards, following
the strong current below their feet. “I wish I didn’t have to return every time
I leave. I wish I could start anew, in a place where no one had heard a thing
about me.”

Mesmerized by the toneless voice, Tekeni shivered. “What did
the prophecy say?” It seemed that the man was relating someone else’s story.

“Nothing that you, or anyone else, would care to hear or
understand.”

“It must be important if they are still expecting something
from you.”

“They are expecting from me nothing but to fit, to do as I’m
told, to be the part of the herd, going after our leaders, asking no questions.
They want me to swallow their lies and thank them humbly, time after time.
That’s all that is expected from me. Nothing to do with prophecies.”

“They want that from everyone.”

“Yes, they do.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except that our leaders don’t know what they are
doing, rushing from one thing to another, warring on everyone, eager to take
offense and make more enemies. They are behaving no better than youths of your
age, grabbing their knives, or their playing sticks, at every opportunity.” The
fleeting smile was amused again, gone before noticed. “They are as mindless as
a forest deer, and they can’t see beyond the tips of their noses.”

“The leaders of the town?”

“Of the whole nation!” Two Rivers flopped his arms in the air,
exhaling loudly. “And the Rock People are no better. And the others too.” He
glanced at Tekeni, his grin back in place. “But don’t feel too good with
yourself just yet because I’m sure your people are no better. You said they war
on each other, too.”

“They don’t war on each other, no clan against clan, or town
against town. But if by 'my people' you mean all the people from the other side
of the Great Sparkling Water, then yes, of course, they war against other
nations.”

“Stupidly at that!”

Tekeni felt the air escaping his lungs. “Not stupidly. They war
against the enemies, against the people who want to destroy their towns and
their fields and their way of life.”

“What’s different about their way of life?”

“Oh, well, there are differences.” He clenched his teeth,
enraged by the open amusement the man’s grin radiated. “There are! We are the
People of the Flint, but our neighbors, the People of the Standing Stone, are
such an annoying nation. It’s like having a bunch of cheeky squirrels by one’s
side, always there, trying to steal, ready to bite. And then, there are the
Onondaga, the People of the Hills, such violent, arrogant people!”

“And they are different from your Flint People how?”

“I don’t know. But they are, they are different. And they are
evil, too.”

“You don’t know how, but they are different and evil.” The
glance shot at Tekeni was openly derisive, the lifted eyebrows making him want
to break something. “It seems to me that you are ready to be a part of the
herd, treading as mindlessly as the next person, repeating what is said to you,
asking no questions.” Turning away, the man shrugged. “Good for you.”

Struggling to keep calm, Tekeni pressed his lips. “But why do
you think you know better than our leaders, Mothers of the Clans, or the
elders? How do you know the enemies are not evil, not different?” The silence
of his companion made him feel stupid. “Yes, all right, maybe there is not much
difference. Like you said, I should know better. But still, other nations are
sending raiding parties to our towns, our villages. Should we do nothing? Let
them burn our homes, kill our men, and take women and children?”

“We are doing that, too.” The man picked a stone, weighed it on
his palm, then sent it flying down the cliff in a perfect arch. “When you lived
in your town of those Flint People, you feared our raiding parties. Now if your
Flint People came here, firing fire-arrows into your longhouse, will you sit
by, or will you join the defenders of your current place of living?”

“I’ll join the defenders, I suppose,” muttered Tekeni, not sure
what he would actually do in such a situation. It would be wonderful to hear
the tongue of his people outside this town’s fence.

“And there you have it. We offend them, they offend us. They
attack, we retaliate. Or the other way around. We war and war for summers, for
longer than anyone could remember, and we have less and less people and less
food to sustain a normal way of living.” Another stone went flying, following
the first in the same impressive half circle. “And there are many of us. Four
nations on our side of the Great Lake, and how many on yours?”

Tekeni hesitated. “Five.”

The man acknowledged it with the nod. “Everyone warring against
everyone, with no order and no rules. As though we are nothing but mindless
creatures, with no ability to think or to speak our minds. Where do you think
it will lead?”

“I don’t know.” Tekeni frowned, sensing where the man’s
questions were heading but unable to fight the urge to argue. “In the end,
someone will win, I suppose.”

“In what way?”

“The others will perish, or they will be too weak to send any
more raiding parties.”

“More chances that all our nations will perish. And not at the
hand of each other. The starvation and the diseases will do the work.”

He remembered Little Falls and the horrible winter three
summers ago. The cold was terrible, and there was not enough firewood to warm
the longhouses, and not enough food to fill people’s bellies. The warriors were
busy warring the whole summer, with no time to hunt enough meat to stock for
the winter, or to catch enough fish. And the women and children were afraid of
the raids which, indeed, kept coming, and so not enough firewood was gathered,
and hardly an adequate amount of corn stored.

He clenched his fists tight, fighting the familiar wave of
dread and desperation. The illness spread like a wind, making people cough and
burn with fever and gasp for air. The oldest dwellers of longhouses and the
youngest were the first to succumb, dying quietly, with no power left in their
bodies even to cry out.

Others battled the bad spirits, drinking potions that the
healers prepared and inhaling the sacred smoke. Some took longer to recover
than the others. Some died despite the potions and the prayers. Tekeni’s mother
and brother among them. She had been heavy with child, her inner powers
insisting on the attempt to sustain her unborn baby, failing to save them both.

As for his twin brother? He felt the salty taste in his mouth,
where his teeth bit into his lower lip. He had always been the stronger of the
two, as though having sucked the power belonging to his brother while still in
their mother’s belly. He overheard one of the elders saying that once, talking
to others, unaware that he, Tekeni, was around and listening. They said that if
the miraculous pair, the twin sons of the War Chief, were destined to fulfill
the prophecy, the other twin would have to find the way to regain the strength
taken by his brother.

With a desperate effort, he pushed the memories away, back into
the dark corners of his soul, concentrating on the river and the calming
presence of the strange man beside him.

“The disease spreads more readily when people are hungry,” the
man was saying, his eyes again on the darkness of the opposite bank, wandering
unknown places. “And the hunger comes with the neglected fields, when the women
are spending more time watching for invaders and running back into the town
upon every real or false alarm. Also, when the men are busy warring, instead of
hunting and fishing. Then many people are dying through the cold winter moons.”

“Yes, I know that.” He had a hard time recognizing his own
voice. “But what can you do? How can you change it?” A meaningless question,
just to take his mind off the memory of the dim, smoke-filled corridor with the
dying fires, the groans of his mother filling his ears, the stench of the blood
and some other discharges penetrating his nostrils with every breath, smoke
stinging his eyes, coughing too, fighting the nausea, dizzy, but not dying, not
like his brother.

“Me? Well, alone, I cannot do much.” Apparently oblivious of
his young companion’s agitation, Two Rivers shook his head. “But if the people
were prepared to listen, to help, to cooperate, then we might manage to do
something.”

“How?”

“Call the meeting of the nations and talk about all this.”

“What?” Forgetting his own plight, Tekeni peered at the man,
astounded. “You mean to talk to them? To talk to the enemy?”

“Yes, to talk to those people who are not so different from us
and who may not prove as evil as we think they are.” Two River’s hearty
laughter shook the air as he turned around, openly amused. “You should see
yourself now, boy. Eyes as round as two plates and the mouth to match, round
and gasping. Have you seen a ghost? A forest giant?”

“I…” He tried to collect his thoughts, embarrassed. “I don’t
think they would want to talk.”

“Well, until we try we would never know, would we?” Another
bout of hearty laughter. “Well, wolf cub, let us go back to our camp, to rest
and prepare our plans for tomorrow. We don’t have all the time in the world.
Two, three dawns and I want us to sail back. This restful journey is a welcome
diversion, but all good things must come to an end.” Turning around, he began
descending the trail, still chuckling, enjoying himself.

He must be truly insane, thought Tekeni, following, his
thoughts in a jumble. To talk to the enemy, any enemy? What a thought!

Chapter 10

 A gust of wind pounced out of nowhere, scattering the
carefully tucked pile of husks, sending them rustling all over the place. Stifling
a curse, Seketa tried to push them back together without getting up, the tip of
her moccasin proving not as effective as her hands would have been.

“I told you we should have put them in a basket,” said one of
the girls, frowning at the mess.

“Then do it,” Tindee’s eyes flashed as she tossed her head
high. “Why are you staring at it? Pick up the husks and put them in a basket.
You can use mine, if you want to.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t wait for
anyone else to do it. It won’t happen.”

“Why me?” muttered the girl angrily, yet as another glare
flashed, she dropped onto her knees, collecting the wet leaves.

“We are almost done here,” said Seketa, picking the last of the
maize. She wiped her brow, then glanced at the sun. “I hope they are not
planning to grind them today.”

“Trust them to make us grind corn until the Father Sun goes to
rest behind the western field.” Tindee held her half-naked cob at arm's length,
frowning at it. “I’m so tired, I can barely see.”

Seketa grinned against her will. “What’s new about that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Except that you missed a lot of good
time while sleeping snugly between your blankets.”

“Like what?”

“Like good time, sister.” Stressing her last word, Tindee
looked up, eyes flickering. “You seem to think that life is about work and
ceremonies and nothing else. But you are wrong, you know? There is more to it
than being the best behaved person in the whole town. You will turn into one of
the Clan Mothers if you are not careful.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Now it was Seketa’s turn to
frown. “What’s wrong with being a Clan Mother? Yes, I want to be in the Clan
Council when my time comes. I want to influence things. I want to be involved.
Why wouldn’t I?”

“You want to tell people what to do, that’s what you want.”
Tindee’s laughter rang prettily as she ignored the glances of two youths who
went by. Pushing her hair away with a self-conscious gesture, she stretched. “I
wish we could just nibble on this maize ear, instead of grinding its seeds all
day long. They should make us grind the second harvest of the white corn, not
this one. The sweet green corn is a waste to make into flour.”

“We still want to eat cakes and buns on the Green Corn
Ceremony,” said one of the girls. “You can’t just nibble on raw maize through
the days of the festivities.”

“Yes, I can,” insisted Tindee. “If it means no grinding corn
for the next few days, I’m prepared to go hungry.”

“With so many of our men going out to raid the enemy lands
instead of hunting, you may go hungry for quite a long time,” muttered one of
the older women, sighing.

Hunting!

Seketa’s heart missed a beat, caught unprepared. For the past
few days, she let no thought of adventures outside the town enter her mind, whether
those of the warriors who had left five dawns ago, or those who went on wild
hunting challenges. Every time she remembered the night of the War Dance, her
stomach would twist, constricting violently, making her want to lean against
something. To track a huge brown bear, to come against it face to face, a
monster who was not afraid of the hunters, making their hunting grounds into
his territory? Oh Mighty Spirits! A handful of seasoned men would dare to try
such a feat. Even less would come back to tell their story. None of them youths
of no experience!

She clenched her teeth tight. It was impossible, unachievable,
a plain waste of a life. He may have been just a wild foreign boy, but he had
been a member of their town, now a Wyandot man, formally adopted. Unruly,
short-tempered, but a good person too, with his shoulders nicely broad and his
eyes large and sparkling. Not silly and not boring like the other boys. Proud,
strange, fascinating, with even his accent pleasing the ear, and his fingers
soft, hesitant, brushing against her cheek, confident and afraid at the same
time.

She shivered, then frowned against her rising anger. Why, why
did Two Rivers have to be there on that fateful evening, seemingly helpful but
not really! The fur of the killer-bear was worth more than five hides, more
than ten hides even, but it was not worth this boy’s life, curse the damn man
into the realm of the Evil Twin.

“Stop dreaming, sister.” Tindee’s voice broke into her
thoughts, welcomed against her bubbling anger. “It looks as though you’ve been
sleeping not so well, after all.”

“I’m not, I did not,” protested Seketa, feeling ridiculously
guilty. “I slept well.”

“Of course.” Her friend’s eyes sparkled suggestively. “You
haven’t been thinking about stupid boys trying to hunt grizzled bears, have
you?”

As the other girls began to giggle, Seketa gasped, her anger
splashing now with force that startled her more than it did her companions.

“And what if I have? Does any of this concern you?” She glared
at them, meeting their surprised gazes. “And he is not stupid, just so you
know. He was offered a challenge, and he accepted it, like a great hunter and
warrior should. He will come back, carrying the magnificent pelt and the claws,
you just wait and see. And then you will be the ones feeling stupid, for
doubting him and for saying bad things about him!” She sprang to her feet,
snatching the heavy basket. “We are done here, aren’t we? We are doing nothing
but gossiping now.”

The silence behind her back hung as she stormed off, trying to
walk proudly, with her back straight, despite the heavy basket. How dared they,
those fat, stupid rodents! Sitting there so idly, laughing and saying silly
things, accusing him of stupidity, when he had been so incredibly brave? What
did they understand?

Slowing her step, she dived into the shadow of the nearest
longhouse, pausing to catch her breath. The fires beside the high wall were
almost extinguished, but the dark embers still radiated heat, not helping one
to feel cooler. With cooking usually done in the mornings, those fires were of
no use through the hot summer afternoons.

These days more than ever, she reflected. With the fruits of
the first harvest picked, the women of the town were now too busy preparing for
the second most important ceremony in all four seasons – the Green Corn
Celebration. Shelling maize ears and grinding corn into flour was only a part
of the frantic activity. 

Nearing the facade of the building, she paused again, putting
her basket down and eyeing the glaring print it left on her palm. The stupid
thing was really too heavy.

Trying to improve her grip on the woven handle, she didn’t pay
attention to the muffled voices, until they penetrated her mind, making her
concentrate. Low and halting, they made her feel strange, as though she had
been eavesdropping.

“They won’t be back until the moon turns into a sliver. Ten
dawns or more, I would say.”

The man’s voice made Seketa wince as she recognized it, the
well familiar voice of her cousin’s husband. He was healing well, she knew,
feeling better, much better than he chose to present to the people of the town.
There was no need to keep to his bunk in the longhouse anymore, still he didn’t
go out, preferring to be pampered and fussed about, was Seketa’s private
conclusion.

“Maybe more.” 

“Not ten dawns surely.” The woman’s voice cut him sharply,
impatient. “They received food for less than this period of time.”

“And what does it tell you, sister?” Yeentso’s laughter rang
hollowly, full of contempt.

“It tells me that they have food for ten days only!” said the
woman angrily.

“Oh you, women, think that you can control us so easily, eh?”
Another outburst of derisive laughter that made Seketa as angry as the woman
sounded. “Well, they will use your food carefully, keeping the bag with the
sweetened maize flour to the very end. They will eat it sparingly and will have
no trouble staying away for whatever period they would feel fit. You, women,
are too full of yourself. You think you can control us all the time. But it is
not so.”

There were a few heartbeats of furious silence.

“I will bring this matter up on the next gathering of the Clans
Councils,” said the woman in the end, voice shaking with rage. “I wonder what
the Mothers of the Clans would say about this possibility taken into
consideration before the raiding parties set off.”

“They know. Of course, they know. They are not as simple as you
are.” The man laughed again. “But let us not argue about this. If the raiding
party comes late it will serve your goals well, will it not, sister? What are you
up to?”

Soundlessly, Seketa placed her basket upon the ground,
wondering why she kept listening. It was not the decent thing to do, and she
could not explain her lingering here if questioned, eavesdropping on the people
of her longhouse.

She stared at the basket, massaging her palm. She had every
right to stop and rest. The damn thing was really too heavy.

 “Ten dawns, you say,” repeated the woman more calmly. “Well,
it can be enough. Maybe.”

“Enough for what?”

Her voice filled with venom again. “Enough to make the
disgusting troublemaker wish he had never been born.”  

Seketa caught her breath.

“The boy?” asked Yeentso, seemingly as surprised. “Why would
you hate him?”

“Not the boy!” cried out the woman. “What would I care for the
filthy cub? He is your problem, not mine.”

“He is.” The growling tone in the man’s voice made Seketa
shiver in the warm afternoon breeze.

“And he is growing stronger as we speak. He’ll give you more
trouble as the time comes.” The woman paused. “If he comes back having killed the
beast, he will gain much admiration. He won’t be an insignificant cub anymore.”

“He won’t kill the bear!”

“With Two Rivers’ help, who knows?” The woman’s voice rang
contemplatively, and Seketa could imagine the well-defined eyebrows climbing
high above the coldly sparkling eyes.

She knew the woman well, a prominent member of the Porcupine
Clan’s longhouse, a future member of this clan’s council for certain, always
asked to organize sacred ceremonies and games, having been oh-so-very efficient
and sharp-minded, married to a prominent man, and Yeentso’s only sister. A
beautiful women, remembered Seketa, but a cold, unfriendly one. If you were
sent to help her, you knew there would be no friendly treatment. And there was
some sort of a scandal connected to her and no other than the notorious Two
Rivers. Another brilliant mind bent on no good. She frowned.

 “And this is the man you are after, sister, aren’t you?”
Yeentso’s voice brought her back from her reverie.

“I’m not after anyone,” said the woman sharply. “But yes, I
would love to see this man disgraced. He brings nothing but discord to our
town. We would be better off without him.” More silence. “I spoke to my
husband’s uncle in the Town Council.”

“And?”

“He is prepared to bring the matter up before his peers.”

“What matter?”

“Of Two Rivers’ cowardice and his way of avoiding doing his
duty.”

“Oh, the raid.”

“Yes, the raid. He was among the chosen. He participated in the
War Dance.” The woman’s voice shook. “His excuse not to come along was laughable.
The bear hunting, I ask you? Chaperoning a stupid boy of no significance? Does
he think this town’s people have no eyes to see and no minds to speak?”

“The War Chief agreed. He gave the man his blessing to do so.
He even praised him for his willingness to help the boy.”

“Oh, please!” Her voice peaked again. “I was there. I saw it
all. Two Rivers was the one to suggest it in the first place, and he put it in
the way the stupid boy could not have refused without losing his face forever.
He tricked them all. The War Chief, of all people, should have seen through
him, but he did not. He always liked the man.” She paused again. “But it is not
so with the Town Council, or with the leading people of some clans. Two Rivers
is nothing but a nuisance, and the councils know it. He’ll bring our
settlement, our whole nation, no good.”

A gust of wind made Seketa shiver, cold upon her sweaty neck.
She began lifting her basket.

“What changed? What is different now? How is it all connected
to the raiding party this man did not join?”

“The War Chief,” she said simply. “He will not be here to throw
his weight behind the man when the Town Council would discuss his inadequate
behavior. Many of the prominent men, warriors, mostly his friends, are not here
to back him up. It would be easy to provoke him into saying stupid things,
doing stupid deeds.”

Yeentso's sudden laughter made Seketa jump. “Oh, sister, you
have a devious mind. Remind me not to cross your path or leave you angry for
longer than a dawn or so.”

The heavy basket cutting into her palms, Seketa began easing
away, anxious to put as much distance between her and the place she was not
supposed to be at.

Some people were horrible, just horrible, she thought, making
her way toward the second longhouse belonging to her clan. Two Rivers was a
strange man, annoying in his disrespectful attitude toward the old ways. Still,
he did not deserve to be made to wish he had never been born, not by a filthy
manipulation, because of something that he did on an impulse. Whether the
projected hunting was a good or a bad idea, he was there, helping the Wolf Clan
boy, making sure he succeeded without getting killed, of that she was sure.

Oh, benevolent spirits, oh, the Right-Handed Twin, please
let him succeed
, she whispered, shutting her eyes.
Please, let nothing
bad happen to him.